


First Time For Everything

by FreckledSkittles



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Heroes & Heroines, JeanMarco Gift Exchange, JeanMarco Secret Santa, M/M, Superpowers, jean being a bumbling idiot, marco being sassy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 04:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSkittles/pseuds/FreckledSkittles
Summary: One plan. One hero. Jean is tasked with his first mission, all on his own. He sees it as his chance to prove to his superiors that he is capable of fighting for the good of superheroes and battling those who want to harm that agenda. It's too bad he runs into the most famed rogue of all supernatural humans. And Jean just so happens to cause the mission to go very wrong.Or: Marco is sassy and Jean is a stressed Empathic who wants everyone to stop mentioning The One Time he made an infamous rogue fall in love with him.





	First Time For Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whipperschnapper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whipperschnapper/gifts).



> Surprise, whipperschnapper! I was so elated when I got your prompts for the JM Secret Santa. I hope I did your prompt justice! Sassy Marco needs to be introduced to the world, especially when he and Jean are on opposite ends of the superhero spectrum
> 
> Literally one of the most fun AUs to write for is one with superheroes, and tbh Jean being someone who controls emotions has so much potential because that boy feels all the emotions At All Times. I really hope you enjoy and happy holidays!

The instructions were simple: get in, snag the shard, sneak out. According to an undercover spy, the Underground—the organization of heroes-turned-villains that functioned nearly out of sight—had located a jewel with a high concentration of energy that could damage the entire city of Trost in an unpredicted amount of ways. Jean Kirstein had only been chosen to retrieve it as part of a new Scouts’ initiative to train its newest recruits in important missions under supervision. Personally, he believed that this mission was too serious for someone as new as him, but he wasn’t going to complain or take advantage of the opportunity. And he could do without the babysitting of his supervisor and officer, Erwin.

“ _ Let us know when you’re in , _ ” he said from his earpiece. Jean had been staking out the bank for a while now at an opposite cafe. Once the clock hit three, there was a throng of people bustling back and forth through the doors and trying to make deposits or withdraw money. Jean saw the back door that Annie, the undercover spy, had described to him: teal, like the others, but with a long scratch breaking out from the knob. The porthole had orange-tinted glass and was framed by a silver ring.

Jean eyed the few people who could catch him and raised his hand casually, as if he was itching his neck. The customers began yawning, while the clerks batted their eyes in an attempt to stay awake. Being Empathic had its pros; with a touch or simple gesture, he could change a person’s emotions with the one he wanted. For careful missions like this one, he preferred dozing or bored. It was simple and quick, and it was easily passed off to anyone not under his influence.

Jean pushed the door open and made his way down two flights of stairs. He got to another door, one with a similar window but painted a dark purple, and he turned the knob. He peeked in before slipping through and shutting it as quietly as he could.

“I’ve made it inside,” he told Erwin in a low voice. He wanted to be absolutely sure that no one was in here with him.

“ _ Good. Mike and I are still at the bookstore next to the cafe. If anything happens, let us know. _ ”

“Sure.” Jean eyed the underground room he was in. It looked to be roughly the same size as the room above it, but it was darker and smelled like something bitter. It was an unused room, for sure, and probably meant for storage. Countless shelves made pathways of boxes and paper. Why it was being kept under a bank, he couldn’t tell.

“ _ The vault should be somewhere on the north side. Annie said it’ll be hidden behind a few shelves, but it shouldn’t be hard to get out. _ ”

“Got it.” He started to head in that direction, up and to the right. He stayed on the outskirts of the room to avoid causing attention to anyone who might be watching. He doubted that the Underground would let a valued object like that go unprotected.

Jean scanned the shelves for any signs of a break in the walls behind them, eyeing the floor for scraps of dust. There was one series of shelves that was bare of anything, save for a few empty boxes. He tossed the boxes aside and gently removed the shelves from the frames. Just as he thought, there was a thin sliver in the wall and a draft coming from behind it. There had to be a room there.

“I think I found the room,” he told Erwin.

“ _ Are you in? _ ” Erwin asked.

“I’m about to. I don’t know if I’ll have service in there.”

“ _ _That’s okay. Mike hasn’t sensed anything else in that room._ ” _

That was reassuring, at least. But Jean wasn’t going to reveal the extent of his emotions to them. “Good to know your bloodhound’s okay.”

“ _ Thanks, emoji boy , _ ” Mike replied. Jean made a note to make him scared of his giant nose later.

He pushed against a stone on the wall, and a carved section moved back. Jean guided the slab of stone slightly to the side so he could slip into the room. There were a few tables, most of them cluttered with items that looked valuable—and they probably were, if Erwin could see them—and others were broken. But he found what he was looking for, and he pulled out an illustration from his pocket to confirm. The blue-tinted, liver-shaped jewel that was desperately needed by someone who wasn’t going to use supernatural abilities for bad was on the left side of the room, spaced out from other jewels but surrounded.

Jean picked it up and wrapped a cloth around it before he put it in the messenger bag strung around his shoulder. He did a quick test of the earpiece to see if he could communicate with them, but his suspicions were confirmed and he was met with static. As soon as he stepped back through the wall and closed the side room off, he pressed the button.

“I got it,” he said.

“ _ That’s great _ ,” Erwin answered, noticeably rushed. “ _ Now get out of there. _ ”

“What’s happening?”

“ _ Someone else is in there. If you stay any longer, it won't be good. _ ”

“Erwin, I can handle this myself.”

“ _ No, Jean, you c _ _—_ ”

The voice cut off as Jean was tossed into a shelf, his stomach suddenly aching from a well-aimed kick, and fell to the floor. He tried to scramble to his feet, but a flash of light blinded him, and he was left lost. A hand grabbed his bag, and he swung a fist in the general direction it was in, but he only met air. Another hand pushed him into the ground, and he heard a soft laugh from above.

“Thanks for getting this for me. The Underground never liked sharing.”

Jean didn’t recognize the voice. He had been hoping it was someone he knew, someone trying to one-up him in experience. But only a few people in the Scouts knew about his location, and Mike had already confirmed that no one was in there with him. He didn’t know what was happening.

The light in front of his eyes cleared, and Jean raised his head to look up at the person holding him down. His face was splattered with freckles, and there was an ethereal-like glow to his body. His fingertips hummed with the energy within as light weaved over his skin in waves. It made him look like he was made out of the light itself.

The more upsetting observation was the blue gemstone in his hand.

“If I had known you were coming, I would have waited for you to stop by,” Jean said. “You made it a little too easy to break into your secret room.”

The person snickered. “You think I work for the Underground?”

Oh. The possibility of this mysterious individual not working for the Underground or the Scouts hadn’t hit him. There were rogues who didn’t work for either side, but Jean had yet to meet one—until now, he supposed. “Who are you?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The person stood up—he looked to be a bit taller than Jean himself, and certainly thicker in muscle mass—and rolled his shoulders. He eyed the shard in his hand, casually dusting off a speck on its surface. “You won’t be seeing me again anyway.”

“What does that mean?”

“ _ Jean, do not engage with him. _ ” Erwin’s voice was sudden and sharp in his ear. “ _ That person has unimaginable power. _ ”

Jean pushed himself up on his elbows. “You’re a little late for that. He got the gem.”

“ _ Hold him off until we get there. We’re calling for backup. _ ”

“If you tell me who he is, I might do something.”

The freckled person had stopped walking when he started talking, and he began to walk back. “Do you not know who I am?”

Jean waved his hand, and the person started to yawn, taken aback by the sudden move. “I’d apologize, but I don’t feel like lying to you.”

“ _ Jean, _ ” Erwin said, his voice low over the earpiece, “ _ have you heard of the Lighter? _ ”

The nickname given to an infamous villain was whispered in secret to other Scouts, especially with the experienced members trying to gain respect from rookies. He didn’t identify with the Underground, and some said he was adamantly against them. But it was his ambivalence towards any movements that didn’t involve him that established his notoriety. Many believed his power to involve some sort of kinetic power, but Jean believed that the people saying that were simply talking about something they knew nothing about.

What Jean did know, what he realized with a shudder and a growing feeling of fear, was that he had casually crossed paths with an infamous superhuman.

The Lighter shook his head as Jean’s concentration slipped and released the control over his emotions. “Are you an Empathic?”

Jean jumped to his feet and put as much space between him and the Lighter as the shelves around them would allow. He knew next to nothing about this person’s character, and he was not going to find out if he was a forgiving type. “Uhm, you could say that, sure. I swear, though, I didn’t know who you were until just now—”

The Lighter laughed. He put the gem down on a nearby shelf, to allow a bright light gleam and shine from his fingertips. Jean was fascinated with the power immediately. “I see that now. But that doesn’t mean I can’t retaliate.”

“Whoa, hold on,” Jean skidded back and ran right into a shelving unit, “hear me out, I had to do that.”

“It wasn’t nice. Don’t you know to stay out of other people’s minds?”

Jean tried to think of a rebuttal, but a beam of light knocked into his shoulder and pushed him back down to the ground. He gathered enough sense to roll out of the way before another hit, scrambling for his bag. There was a weapon he could use if he could just get his hands on it—

The Lighter flicked his wrist with a bored yawn, and a ball of light bounced from wall to wall. Each pass made contact with Jean, and he found himself being thrown back and forth like a ping-pong ball. Every time he thought the ball was done, and he reached for his bag, he was knocked off-balance and wobbled for control. The Lighter let the light sphere dance over him; the way the stray beams from the sphere danced over him was enchanting. It traveled up his arms, curled around his shoulders, licked up his neck and caressed his chin. If Jean had a chance, he would have admired it.

The ball stopped and burst into tiny bits, some of them falling harmlessly over Jean, most of them dissolving into nothing. The Lighter stretched his arms over his head. “That was fun.” He retrieved the gem from its spot on the shelf, and he faced Jean with a smile. If it was in any other situation, maybe it would have been nice. It felt like nothing more than a tease to him. “Maybe next time we can play a real game of tennis.”

“ _ Jean, _ ” Erwin’s voice erupted in his ear, “ _ there’s a delay at the station. Do whatever you can to stall him. We’re coming down to help. _ ”

“It’s about time,” Jean huffed. As the Lighter began to leave once again, Jean stuffed his hand into his bag and grabbed hold of the hookshot he had requested as his main weapon. He wrapped his hands around the lever inside and aimed it at the hand clutching the stone. If he had to break the gem to get it back, he would, even if Erwin were to tell him not to.

Well. There was a first time for everything.

Jean shot the hook, and he hit the bottom of the stone and nicked the Lighter’s hand. The gem bounced to the ground as the enemy halted in his steps. There was already a ball of light forming in his hands, roughly the size of a softball, but maybe without the softness.

The ball was thrown with the speed and reflex of a major league pitcher. Jean was raising his hand to switch the Lighter’s emotions, but the light hit his bicep and knocked him back. The Lighter’s eyes widened in surprise—his Empathic ability had made it. He had gotten it in before the hit and, honestly, he was surprised! Erwin would be proud.

“Oh.”

Jean made eye contact with the Lighter and instantly saw that something was wrong. There was a look in his eyes, one that Jean had come to understand as something that should never be done. The power of controlling emotions provided unlimited and, at times, uncontrollable possibilities. He had been taught to use his Empathic ability in moderation—if causing anger, or sadness, don’t overdo it, among other things—but there were a handful of emotions he was instructed to never cast.

“I can’t believe how beautiful you are.”

Oh no.

The Lighter closed the distance between them, the stone forgotten, and grabbed Jean’s hand. “Wow. Your eyes are like amber.”

“Uhh.” Jean removed his hand from Marco’s grip. “Thanks. This was a mistake.”

“Oh, no, don’t call it that!” His hand was retrieved as quickly as it had been lost. “Our love is not a mistake. It is destiny.”

Fuck. “No, Lighter, you’re not thinking for yourself—”

“And you don’t even know my name!” The Lighter held his hand out, almost bashful, his eyelashes batting alluringly. “I’m Marco.”

This was extremely bad. Jean took the hand and shook it; Marco—if that was his name—squealed and stared at his hand in disbelief, as if he couldn’t comprehend that their hands had just touched. And as much as he wanted to change it, he didn’t even know how to reverse it.

“The stronger the emotion is, the harder it is to pull it back,” Erwin had told him during his earlier training days last year. “The effects of strong emotions wear off within thirty minutes or so, but extremities can increase that. And some emotions are so powerful, they can fall out of our control.”

“Like what?” Jean asked. “Can you put someone into a severe depression?”

Erwin shrugged, had looked away in embarrassment, and hesitated in providing an answer. “That is one of them. Sorrow and Rage don’t always follow our command. Any emotion in its most extreme, we advise against. But causing stronger emotions, like embarrassment or even deep admiration, can be dangerous. They bring up so many feelings at once, it’s difficult to control. Your best response, if you were to cast the change out of your control, or on accident, is to wait it out.”

Jean never thought he would be foolish enough to cause anyone—let alone a chaotic-neutral villain—to fall in love with him on an accident. He couldn’t even understand how or why it had happened. Unless his mind had revealed something in his subconscious that he had yet to discover, there was not much of an explanation for his accident.

The Lighter—Marco—returned to his shyness after ogling his hand in awed silence. He kicked his feet back and forth, and his eyes darted from his face to the floor. The light that had been surrounding him gathered behind him, as if to form a heavenly glow. “I didn’t think I could feel something so strongly like this.”

“You’re not supposed to,” Jean admitted flatly. “I’m just an idiot.”

Marco gasped and shook his head. “Don’t say those things! How could you be so mean to yourself?”

Jean snorted. “This is how it’s been, bud. Trust me, it’s nothing new.” His insecurities weren’t new to him. But what were the chances of Marco remembering these interactions? Or, even better, was there any chance of them crossing paths again?

The Lighter sighed and looked away, and when he made eye contact with him again, he was staring at Jean with overflowing joy. “I can make you see it! If I love you hard enough, you’ll be able to see it too, right?”

“Oh, no, this is  _ not _ long-term.” Jean slid out of Marco’s reach and held his hands up in front of him to keep the other at bay. “Look, you’re cute, I guess, and outside of the whole Lighter thing, you seem sassy and nice. But neither of us are interested in each other.”

Marco thought of the words, biting his lower lip. It took him a moment to respond; Jean hoped his words hadn’t been misconstrued. “Are you…into people like me?”

He didn’t need to be straight to understand what Marco was trying to say. Even under the influence of supernatural powers, being gay was met with caution. “I’m your everyday Bisexual King.” Marco’s eyes lit up at that. Wrong answer. “B-but it’s not that! It has nothing to do with being gay or bi or however you identify. This just…”

Something behind him caught Marco’s attention, because his big brown eyes darted up and flashed in alarm. His arm was wrapped around Jean and pulling him back before he could turn around or react. When Jean turned around, he saw Erwin inching forward cautiously, with a lurking Mike spouting electricity from his knuckles.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lighter,” Erwin said. “My name is Er—”

“I know who you are,” Marco interrupted. “I met the leader of the Underground. He still hates you.”

Erwin raised an eyebrow at being interrupted, but his offense was replaced with amusement. “Do you work for Levi?”

“I work for myself. When no one looks out for you, there’s only one person you can trust.” Jean tried not to flinch at the tightened grip around him. Mike noticed it—of course he did, damn his double-powered ass—and more sparks bounced off him in warning. “Excuse me for refusing to fight for institutions.”

“We respect your right as an individual outside of established institutions,” Mike uttered. He was using his intimidating voice, Jean noticed. If Marco was fazed by it, he didn’t show it. “But if you don’t release Jean unharmed and give us the gem, we’ll have to retaliate.”

Wait, what? Was this a rescue mission?

Jean scowled at the remark. “I’m not a damsel, you asshole,” he snapped.

“I’m protecting him!” Marco added. He nuzzled Jean’s shoulder, but he pulled away as if he had been scalded when Jean eyed him. “I don’t know who you two are.”

“We work with Jean,” Erwin explained. “We’re here to help him retrieve that powerful gem. If you can let us leave with both, we’ll leave you alone. We don’t want to recruit you.”

Marco scoffed, “Well, at least you’re more polite than the Underground. They keep asking me to rejoin them.” Remembering who was with him, his clutch around Jean tightened once more. “But I can’t give you what you want.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a long story,” Jean groaned. He wished it would drop at that. He internally pleaded with Marco, if he could be heard, that he didn’t reveal it. The last thing he needed was his superiors knowing how much he had fucked up a simple retrieval mission—

“I’m in love with him.”

Mike snorted, hiding it behind a hand. Erwin’s eyebrows might have shot off his body if they were able to, with the amount of energy they sprung up with. Jean fell back into Marco with a low whine. He wished Marco had just knocked him out earlier and left him to be found.

“I don’t think we should break up the happy couple,” Mike said, stopped by Erwin’s raised hand.

“What does Jean think of this?” Erwin wondered. Jean noticed Erwin’s hand—the only resting on his side—momentarily curl into a fist. Two fingers, the index and middle, pressed together before they unfolded. He recognized the sign right away; his hookshot was still on his hand.

“I think it’s my fault,” Jean said, playing along. “I still don’t understand my own power, and I proved it tonight by affecting the Lighter’s emotions.”

Marco gasped in his ear. “How dare you!” He turned Jean around in his arms, staring at him with the utmost devotion and affection Jean had seen from a person. He knew people who felt that way for others, but to see it drawn towards him was a bit overwhelming. “That’s the second time you said something like that, and you say it so casually. Do you even get how amazing you are?”

Jean shrugged. “Personally, I think we have different views on how amazing I am. But I don’t think you’d be saying stuff like this if it weren’t for me.”

That was upsetting. Marco frowned heavily at his retort—and wow, that frown panged his heart. “Maybe not. But I feel this way right now. Why not live in the moment?”

Oh. If it weren’t for the effects of affixed emotions, that would have been enticingly smooth. Jean hoped he would remember to pat himself on the back later for being part of a revelation like that. “Why not?”

Jean raised his arms to rest on Marco’s shoulders. Marco was surprised by the movement, eyeing the limbs with shock and expectation on what would happen next. Jean let his free hand toy with Marco’s hair—it was surprisingly soft?—and suppressed a shiver at the hand that traced up his back. The other aimed at the ceiling, and with a pull of the lever inside, Jean pulled himself up and out of Marco’s arms.

Mike was quick to move. His electricity expanded from his body and acted of its own accord as he dove forward. Marco met his electric attack of pure bolts of lightning with spheres of light that flashed on impact. Jean swung himself back and forth a few times before he released and aimed at the wall, landing it perfectly and helping himself drop back down. He had to dodge a few bright attacks that sizzled with energy as they whizzed past, but he made it back unharmed.

He snuck over to Erwin, who was standing out of the way and watching the fight. When he was spotted, Erwin bent down so that he could be heard, “Of all the feelings you could cause, you fell on love?”

“Don’t,” Jean seethed.

Erwin shrugged. “I don’t blame you. He’s handsome. Looks like your type.”

“I don’t have a type.”

“Mm, I’ve heard different. And he fits the profile.”

Jeez. It sounded like he was talking to a dad playing wingman. “Don’t mention this ever again, and I’ll do whatever work you want from me.”

Erwin considered it for a moment and nodded in confirmation. “A fair bargain.”

“Can you reverse my Changed Emotion?”

Erwin sighed softly. “I don’t think I can. I wasn’t the one who caused it.” He eyed Jean with expectation and was met with a hardened glare. “You’ll have to do it.”

“I don’t even know how I did it.”

“Well, you can either end the fight now, or we can wait it out. I’ve been in this situation before, and I can guarantee that we will not be allowed to leave with you.”

How pleasant. “Fine.” Jean eyed Marco fighting with Mike, and he couldn’t help but find it beautiful. The way the light moved from Marco’s fingertips and burst out was precise and quick. He was experienced with his power, knowing what he was doing before it happened, and he took Mike’s hits as if it was nothing. Maybe it was.

Out of nowhere, he felt bad for wanting to change it. There was so much raw passion in his movements, he couldn’t tear it apart. Perhaps there was a loophole.

“Get Mike’s attention,” Jean ordered. Erwin eyed him suspiciously, but he whistled lowly. Mike didn’t turn away from the fight, but he was alert and listening, playing more defensively than before. Jean knew, with Mike’s superior senses, that he would be heard. “Catch him.”

“What’s your plan?” Erwin asked. Jean didn’t answer.

Marco looked over at him, and Jean raised his hand, upturned and open. If he was too chicken to reverse his work, he would just have to change it.

The Lighter took two cautious steps forward before he reached out, the light separating as he did and spearing off. A few beams twisted up Jean’s arm and twirled through his hair. The tips of their fingers brushed together; Marco’s palm was tender, but there was a certain hardness to it that signified hard work. Jean slid his hand over, and Marco’s eyes shut. A shiver ran down Jean’s spine and coiled in his shoes. The light was comfortably warm, like a heater during the winter solstice. He never knew that non-fire-based powers could provide such warmth.

Marco’s slip into slumber landed him in Mike’s arms. With the threat gone, Erwin retrieved the stone and pocketed it immediately. Mike set Marco down gently and as comfortably as possible, though Jean doubted it would help. He knew enough about his power, thanks to Erwin, that Marco would be fine in an hour. When he woke up, he would be freed of Jean’s influence. There would be no love in his heart for Jean.

If only he could understand how this had happened in the first place.

 

* * *

 

“So his name is Marco?”

Jean had hoped, a week after his nearly-failed mission, that Erwin would never mention what happened to him again. Or, at least, without great detail. There was a lot to discuss unrelated to his mistake, as tempting as others—Mike—may find it to avoid it. But after being called into his office and sitting in wait for him, he doubted that would ever happen.

“I have class in an hour,” Jean pointed out with a frown. “If you’re just gonna throw my mistakes in my face, I’m leaving.”

Erwin chuckled and leaned back in his office chair. Behind him, Mike smirked and eyed Jean teasingly. “General Pixis wants to thank you for retrieving the stone.”

“Okay.” Jean toyed with the tie of his hoodie to distract himself. “Let him thank me.”

“If you answer his emails, he will.”

“I wanna move on from what happened.”

“Because you made the Lighter fall in love with you,” Mike said in a low voice.

Jean glared at him and successfully bit back the retort he wanted to fire at him. “I did what you guys wanted and I want to move on. I didn’t think that was a crime.”

“There’s some interest from other officers,” Erwin clarified, “mostly because there’s been a lack of activity from the Lighter or any rogue movement.”

“Good for them. Maybe they’re busy.”

“It’s suspicious, is all. We want to keep an eye on it, and since you spent so much time on your own with one of the most well-known rogues, your account is intriguing.”

“I’m one man, Smith.”

“You’re hardly a man,” Mike mumbled.

Jean looked up at the speaker, feeling his anger rise up inside him. “What do you know, Bloodhound? All you do is sniff the air and shoot electricity out of your dick.”

Before he could seize control of the energy that was surging through his body, with a clench of his fist in anger, Mike turned around with a flare and leaned over the desk, glowering down at him. “Watch what happens when you step in a puddle. I could zap you out of existence in an instant.”

Erwin stood and placed a hand on both of them; Jean felt the anger being pushed out of him, and Mike visibly relaxed and returned back to his calm state. “Consider it a continuation of the mission,” he said. “Every single Scouts officer has had a moment of inexperience where something has gone wrong. I wouldn’t be standing here today if I hadn’t caused someone to experience overwhelming emotions.” He eyed Mike at the last part before he faced forward again. “Is there any real reason you can’t at least consider talking with them?”

Jean felt uneasy by the offer. He was the one who risked his life for a supposedly powerful stone—which he still knew nothing about—all from orders of someone else. Just thinking about helping them against his own will was unnerving. Maybe that’s how Marco felt.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally replied. Erwin seemed to take that as an accepted answer, for he nodded and patted Jean on the shoulder, bidding him farewell for now.

Jean was enrolled in a university outside of the city of Trost, the main campus hugging the last stretch of downtown and extending out. If all went well for the semester, he could graduate a semester earlier than he thought. Even through city traffic and the struggles to find a good parking spot, he was happy for some sort of normalcy to his daily routine.

It was during his Intro to Ethics class that he felt something wrong. It was one of two classes for the day, and it wasn’t very big. And yet something was off. He hadn’t felt this way before, and he doubted it had anything to do with the lesson. He took notes as best he could, participated for his daily credit, and he laughed at the jokes provided by the professor. It wasn’t until the end that he found out what made everything wrong.

“You know, it’s surprising it took me this long to realize where I had seen you before.”

Marco looked quite normal in regular clothes—nothing like the black bodysuit and stealth clothes he had last week. His freckles, now that Jean could see them in real light, were everywhere: over his knuckles, down his neck, forming constellations on his forearms. He didn’t look like the famed rogue that everyone in the Scouts chatted about. And that chilled expression, the relaxed curve of his lips and the softness of his eyes…

He couldn’t wait to hear what Erwin would think.

“I didn’t even know you went to college here,” Jean admitted with a smile. He stepped out of the way to let other students passed. He wasn’t sure how to interact with him. Did he remember anything? Did he still love him? And jeez, he didn’t have to make them sound like past lovers. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m doing well, how are you?” He was overly polite, nothing like the sassy and blaring confidence he had flaunted before. As a regular member of society, the Lighter was a normal person.

“Ah, good.” Maybe Marco wouldn’t mention it. Maybe it would just go unnoticed and they could act like they never battled—or, really, one cast a Changed Emotion that ended up causing the other to fall in love with him. But Jean couldn’t tell if that would be good or bad. “Did you get home alright?”

Marco’s eyes flickered with a hint of remembrance, and his smile twisted with a teasing lilt. “I didn’t take you for the concerned type.”

Oh no. He remembered in the wrong way. The one scenario that could have been avoided. “Yeah, I’m, uhm, still not interested in dating, actually.”

Marco let out a sharp laugh. “You think I’m still into you?”

Jean hoped his lack of an answer would be enough. When he said it like that, it just made him feel embarrassed.

With a glance behind him and a softened expression, Marco nodded to the door. “Do you have time for lunch?”

 

* * *

 

Jean didn’t say anything. He toyed with the salad in front of him and eyed his side of mac and cheese in disdain, as if it was the root of his problems. Marco hadn’t continued on with the conversation of what happened last week, and any attempts Jean made were met either with silence or a chiding look. Their arrival at an off-campus cafe only added to the strange atmosphere; Jean just wanted to get it over with. He was trying to move on from the mission, wasn’t he?

Marco twirled the straw of his frothy frappuccino and smirked at his salad. His panini looked rather misshapen, now that he had picked the tomatoes off quite uncomfortably. “Do you like pecans?”

Jean glanced at his salad, which was dusted with the nut. He didn’t like pecans, but the salad listed was the first one he saw. This wasn’t any better than a date, if he was going to get embarrassed over a boy and order something that symbolized that shame. “I’m not a fan. I just sorta grabbed it.”

“Distracted much?” Marco took a sip of his drink and rested his hands on the table, crossing them politely. “What’s on your mind?”

Well. If they were going to discuss it, like real adults, then he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. “I’m, uh, sorry for last week. I wasn’t trying to make you fall for me.”

Marco shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve been hypnotized. And not the last.” He smirked a bit in afterthought; “But it is the first time someone’s made me fall in love with them.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Marco laughed at that—it was a pleasant sound. “But yeah, trust me when I say that it was a complete accident.” Jean dropped his fork beside his plate and wrung his wrist shyly. “I still haven’t fully grasped what I can do.”

“It takes time. How long have you had it?”

“Almost three years. I’ve been with the Scouts for half of that.”

Marco nodded. The air between them suddenly felt tense and uncomfortable. They were from two different worlds, one clearly more experienced than the other, and their outlooks on life were probably a far cry from what they themselves could ever imagine doing. (Although, Jean would never say it out loud, he couldn’t see much wrong in a rogue’s decision to avoid institutions.)

Jean couldn’t help but ask the question forefront in his mind. “Why did you fight me? I get you wanted the stone, and I’m part of the Scouts, but I can’t understand what made you so interested in me.”

Marco snorted, “I thought you didn’t want me to fall in love with you, Bisexual King.”

Oh. Oh, no, he did remember that line, huh? Jean could have gone his whole life without having to say or hear that again. “Okay, that was rude, and not my point.”

“I know.” He took another sly sip of frappuccino. “But you’re easy to tease.”

“I am not.” Jean felt the emotion—the flushed cheeks, the flustered mind—slip towards Marco, and he reeled it in. The last thing he needed was to inject someone else with his emotions. He had enough of that for one day. “How the hell would you even know anything about me?”

He shrugged. “I get a good read of people. Kinda like you can.” Marco nudged his plate aside, eyeing the patterns of the table in thought. Jean noticed little details about him—the curve of his nose leading to the button-like end, the softness of his jaw, the tiny dimple that grabbed a few freckles within its indent. It reminded him that the Lighter was just a title. Marco was simply its owner.

Jean didn’t push him to respond. He waited in patient silence—which was difficult as fuck, how did people do it—and tried not to fidget or drum his fingers on the table. The Scouts had a file on the Lighter that provided every piece of information that could be gathered and piled together to form a profile. The longer he sat there, across from the person surrounding it, the more Jean realized how inhumane the Lighter had been made out to be. Almost like he didn’t truly exist.

“I don’t like to work for corporations or institutions, because they think for us,” Marco began. “They present goals and demands that have to be met, and they expect it to happen, to the point where they plan for that success. I didn’t want that for myself. I saw what they could do first-hand, with the Underground, so I left them. I wasn’t going to play sides and be forced to play into a role.”

“Even though they already made one for you,” Jean pointed out. Marco looked confused at that, his eyebrows furrowing down, and Jean realized what he had said a bit too late. “Uhh. The Scouts have a file on you. Apparently, they’ve been trying to find out who you are since you started working for yourself.”

“Of course they did.” Marco shook his head and glowered at the table. “I must scare them. Independence and freethinkers aren’t exactly valued.”

“I can see the benefit of it.” He didn’t know why he was admitting this, or when he had even started to think like that. “You can keep your options open and decide what you want for yourself.”

Marco eyed him in alarm as if he was seeing him for the first time and realized what he was capable of doing. “Don’t say that because of me.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, I just—” He let out a long sigh. “I’ve had cohorts say something within that ideology and then turn on me because I didn’t conform to their ideas.”

Jean was offended; he wasn’t best friends with the guy, but he at least felt like there was something friendly between them. “So what sets you apart from everyone else?”

“I want to live in the moment. I don’t want to plan ahead. If something interests me, I go for it and see where it takes me. The Underground and the Scouts want to plan everything out, but they take it to such an extreme that they forget what their purpose was in the first place.”

He hadn’t thought of it like that before. Hell, he doubted anyone had ever considered the two supernatural institutions like that. Marco seemed so intelligent, so educated and informed, and so confident in what he was saying. Jean wondered how long he had held up those ideas by his lonesome. His shoulders must hurt from carrying that weight.

“If you had taken that gemstone,” Jean started to inquire, “what would you have done?”

Marco paused for a moment and then shrugged. “I don’t know. I still don’t understand what it can do. But it means something, if your side fought so hard to keep it.”

“Would you destroy the Scouts?”

He scoffed. “I’m not an anarchist. People rely on the Scouts and Underground. Just because they don’t agree with me doesn’t mean I need to deprive them of their livelihoods.” He paused again, this time considering Jean in his musing. “You said the Scouts have a file on me. Do they want you to talk about me?”

Something told Jean that he shouldn’t answer that. If the voice could talk, it might have sounded like Erwin or Mike. He couldn’t find the willpower to agree with it. “They’ve asked me to. But I don’t want to.”

Marco leaned back into his seat, arms crossed. “And the Bisexual King strikes again.”

Jean sputtered in shock and irritation. “I didn’t mean it like that!” Instead of another teasing retort, he got a wave to continue, providing momentary relief from what he was about to say. “I think they took your reputation and turned it into something unreal. Like ghost stories you tell little kids. I don’t think they realized they were affecting a person’s identity when they labeled you the Lighter.”

“What a dumb name. They could have tried.”

“Yeah, it’s not terrifying. But they wanted people to be afraid, which they managed to do.”

The amusement in his features faltered. “Were you scared of me last week?”

“I…” Thinking back on it, Jean wasn’t sure what he felt. If he was afraid, it was due to a situation that he had not been trained for. He never found himself wary of the Lighter or the reputation that came after it, at least not to a point that caused irrational fear. “Not of you, no. If anything, I was freaking out because I didn’t know what to do. It was my first mission by myself.”

Marco didn’t look fully convinced; Jean didn’t blame him. “Are you scared of me now?”

“People want to be scared of you, because it’s easier than understanding you. If they heard you out, I think they’d be much different.”

“I want to know what you think.”

Jean snorted. “Now who’s crushing on who?”

Marco didn’t laugh. His expression stayed in stone-like silence and expectation for the answer to his question. Jean suddenly realized that even with all his talk about separating himself from the Scouts and the Underground, the opinions of others mattered. Just like anyone else. And as much as he separated himself from those institutions, their opinions of him and what he did still had some sort of control or influence over him.

“I’m not afraid of you. I don’t see any reason why I would be.” He stopped himself, feeling a sudden burst of courage explode in his chest. He was not acting as a representative of the Scouts, but as an agent for himself and his own feelings. He was in control of them, after all. “Regardless of what I felt last week,” Jean emphasized his next words by pressing his finger against the table, “at this moment, I do not fear for my life. And honestly, if I saw you again, I don’t think I would be.”

Marco relaxed at the reassurance. His expression fell back into the state from before, with a hint of thankfulness in his eyes to compliment the sudden presence of admiration. Jean nearly choked on a thought that he had caused it, but he relaxed when he noted that the cause of it was not from his power. His words had done that. He, as a regular person, without the Scouts, without the power, had made him feel something.

It was not the first time, but it didn’t have to be. Jean was happy with the second time anyway.

 

* * *

 

“I’m Jean, by the way.”

“I know. Your boss said your name last week.”

“Oh. Right.”

“More importantly,” Marco smiled teasingly, holding the door open for Jean, “it took you this long to realize I might not know who you are? After I beat you up for a gemstone and ask you out on a lunch date?”

Jean scowled. “That was not a date, first of all.”

“It was basically a date. You even paid for me.”

“As a courtesy! And secondly, what was I supposed to do? Go up to you after you knocked me down and say ‘by the way, nice to meet you, I’m Jean’?”

Marco shrugged. “It would have been nice.”

“I cannot believe you.”

 

* * *

 

Jean found a note in his backpack two days later, when he had planned a meeting with General Pixis and Erwin. They were going to discuss what had happened when he had met Marco, as part of an investigation into the Lighter and who he was. Jean already had an idea on what he was going to say when he came upon the note.

_ Live in the moment. There’s a first time for everything. Don’t miss yours. --Marco _

Underneath the comment was a phone number. It was framed by a heart and three rectangles that Jean could identify as a flag with three distinct colors.

There was a first time for everything. And while Jean did not dwell on how the Scouts would handle his humanizing Marco, he was going to live in the moment and see what would happen. 

Aside from the fact that it would make for an interesting conversation piece at their next date.


End file.
